Clockwork
by Saiyaness28
Summary: Steam Punk Pinocchio. When Caroline goes to live with a widowed aunt, she discovers that her uncle has left behind a remarkable invention, a living clock in the form of a man. He can speak, he has dreams and ideas, he even has a name. Does he have a soul?
1. Chapter 1

Clockwork

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Chapter 1: Ticking Wonderland

I gazed absently out at the tall, brick and glass faced buildings of Tin City, listening to the random spits and sputters of the steam powered automated horses that drove the carriage forward. This was only the latest of a handful of times I had ever been to the city. Under better circumstances, I would've been over the moon with excitement. I had always had a great interest in technology and with the latest blossoming of knowledge that had swept over the world, technology was swiftly advancing. However, most of these advancements were happening here, in the cities, not in little towns like Riverside, where I had spent my entire seventeen years. I had always dreamed of coming to live in Tin City, to immerse myself in contraptions, if nothing else. Being sent away to live with a widowed aunt by my heartbroken father after my mother's sudden abandonment was not what I had in mind. I missed my little brothers, Paul and Jonathan so much. I wish I could have stayed with them, but even they were being sent away to a boarding school three hours away in Silver City. It seemed that without my mother around, my father had little patience for his children.

I let out a shuttering sigh and fidgeted with my feathered cap as we came to a stop outside of my aunt's home. "Here we go." I muttered. I hesitantly opened the door.

"It's so good to see you, my dear", greeted my aunt Margaret at my arrival. She scooped me up in her arms as soon I stepped out of the carriage and gave me a tight, comforting hug. Aunt Margaret was a pleasant woman. She was nearing fifty now, yet her face still held a slight essence of youth, hinting at how beautiful she must have been when she was in her prime. Her once golden hair had turned snowy white. Smile lines creased her round face and her grey eyes sparkled at me in the evening lamp light of the city. She blotted at her eyes with an embroidered hanky. "My, you've grown. It seems like only yesterday your mother was carrying you around on her hip. You're a young woman now." Her slight smile was somewhat bitter. "I've missed a great deal."

I smiled warmly at her and gave her another quick hug. "Don't worry. We have all the time in the world to catch up, now that I'm here to stay."

"You're right." Margaret beamed at me, tears pooling in her eyes. She quickly blotted them away, as she took my hand and led me up the steps of her large brick town house. "At least we'll have some time together until I get you married off." She added, only half-jokingly.

Upon entering my aunt's house, I was immediately greeted by a serenade of ticking and chiming. Just the sitting room alone was lined with clocks on every available piece of wall and flat surface. I could see that more awaited me in the halls and other rooms of the house. A coo-coo clock chimed and the little bird popped out, making its signature noise, right above my head. I jumped in fright with a strange squeal.

Margaret chuckled at me. "Sorry. I should have warned you. Your uncle Peter, God rest his soul, was a tinkerer of sorts. He was fascinated by clocks, for some reason or another. He collected them throughout his life, even fixed some that hadn't worked in decades. Unfortunately, that means the house is filled with them and each is set to go off at a different time. It's something I'm afraid you'll have to get used to." The curve of her lips fell slightly. "It's been a year since he died…but I still don't have the heart to turn them all off." She chuckled again, but there wasn't any real happiness or humor behind it. "Besides, I think the silence would drive me crazy after all these years. I'd miss the noisy things."

"I like them." I said with a grin as I looked around at them all, admiring the fine craftsmanship of the woodwork and the brilliant gold of the gears that were exposed in a few of them. "I feel like I'm in Wonderland." I breathed in awe. I walked slowly around the room, touching the glass faces of the clocks, noting how each of their hands was in a different position and how each clock looked and sounded different from the one next to it.

"We'll see if you still feel that way when you're trying to sleep. I still remember the first few weeks after Peter and I was married. I've never been so exhausted in my whole life. I hated the contraptions back then, wanted to toss them all out of the window or use them as kindle for the fireplace, but of course Peter wouldn't have it. He said that I'd grow to love them as much as he did. God strike me dead, if he wasn't right." She giggled in her husky voice. She waved me towards the dining room. "Come, I have dinner waiting for you. It's probably stone cold by now."

The food was indeed cold, but I made no mention of it. I ate quietly, nibbling on the roasted chicken and potatoes. I looked around, still in wonder of the place. There were literally clocks everywhere, even in the middle of the dining table between the two candlesticks. The sound of them all, ticking insistently, was near defining.

"Have you heard any word from Trinity?"

" Ma'am?" I murmured, blinking out of a stupor. My attention reverted away from the clocks and back to my aunt.

She repeated her question again patiently. "Have you heard any word from your mother?"

I swallowed hard and my eyes fell to my half empty cup of tea. "We…receive post cards from time to time. The last one was from the Golden City. It seems that Mother and her…new friend are staying at the Empress Hotel."

"That girl," Margaret huffed. "I can't believe she ran off with that bloke and just left the three of you there, without even saying goodbye. Your father hasn't done much better. He should be taking care of you and the boys as a father should, not sending you off so that others can see to your care. Not that it is any bother to me. I'm very happy for the company, Caroline." She reached across the table and pat my hand reassuringly.

"Mother", I began with a soft breath, "has always been…a free spirit. I suppose she grew board of us all. My father…well I don't really blame him for sending us away…he's always left our care to our Mother. I don't think he knew what to do with us once she went away. I know he loves us, he just has a difficult time showing it, as many men do."

"Child," she sighed, pity shining in her eyes. "What Trinity did was selfish and cruel. It had nothing to do with you or your brothers or even your father. She failed you, as your mother. She'll have to live with that guilt, not you. As for your father…" She smiled sweetly at me, squeezing my hand with her own. "I suppose even a heart of stone can break. He'll come around dear, you'll see. Maybe he just needs time to…come to terms with things."

"I hope so." I replied, picking up my cup and taking a sip of the tea. I swallowed it quickly to rid my mouth of the taste, having found it much too bitter all of a sudden.

After dinner, Margaret led through the house, showing off one room, before tottering through another doorframe. She'd been modest when she said that there were clocks everywhere. They almost made the entirety of every wall. Every bare surface, was covered by one is some shape or another. A grandfather clock sat in every corner. Coo-coo clocks squeaked madly overhead, seemingly trying to drown each other out. Clocks that played calming and beautiful music were overtaken by the irritating chime and tick of the sea of less ornate clocks that surrounded them. I knew Margaret was talking, but I couldn't hear her voice very well, as I drowned in the ocean of noise. I simply nodded and smiled, hoping that she hadn't asked me a direct question.

We entered yet another hallway. The house was literally a labyrinth of dead end halls and rooms that seemed to have no other purpose than to house more clocks. This hall was different from the rest of the house. This was the first place I had yet to see where there were no clocks to be seen or even heard. The walls were bare, save for a painting of my uncle Peter and Margaret in their wedding clothes. It hung by a narrow door, which was bolted shut by no less than three brass locks.

"The bedrooms are just at the end of this hall. I forced Peter to leave this part of the house clock free. Otherwise, I would never get my beauty sleep." She laughed and pointed towards the two open doors, one right next to the other. "Your room is on the left. Mine is next door on the right. If you every need anything just bang on the wall a few times and I'll come running."

I stopped at the odd, bolted door, staring at it like it was a two headed dragon. Curiosity bubbled up from within my chest, making me swallow hard as if there were a large toad in my throat. "Where does this door lead to?" I asked.

"That's just Peter's old workshop; nothing down there but broken clocks that never got fixed and projects that were never finished. It's filled with junk. It's dangerous so I locked it. I don't want you going down there so you can trip over a busted coo-cool clock. Pay it no mind."

She tottered on down the hall and I hesitantly followed, trying absurdly hard to ignore the bolted door and the promise of fun projects it held behind it.

"Will the room do?" She asked.

I turned around slowly, taking in the humble room. It was decorated with pink and white striped wall paper. A blush pink blanket was spread over the large bed. The brass bed was painted white, as was the wood of the bed and wardrobe. Though I was a girl, this room was far too feminine for my liking. Pink was never a favored color. Still I grinned like a Cheshire cat and gushed over it, making Margaret smile happily.

"I'm so glad you like it, Caroline." She gave me a kiss on the cheek as she bid goodnight.

I slept restlessly that night, in my new pink bedroom. It was not the constant chiming, ticking, squawking, and bonging sounds of the clocks that kept sleep from finding me as Margaret had warned. It was the accursed locked door and the possibilities that it hid away that had me tossing and turning.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The King of Tin City

The following day, Aunt Margaret was quick to whisk me away into the city. She claimed that it was only to run errands, but I suspected it had more to do with her desire to show me the city that my mother grew up in, the city that I had grown up dreaming about.

"I can't believe how beautiful it is here." I gushed, gazing at all the technological wonders around me. It was obvious where Tin City got its name. Most of the buildings in the richer part of the city were plated with tin, giving them a silvery, metallic sheen, as if the whole city were a machine itself. The sun shone down, bouncing light against the glossy surfaces of the buildings and bathing the street in golden sunshine.

I had never seen so many people in one place before. They milled around in the streets. Groups of women huddled together, chattering about the latest gossip, no doubt. Men in fine business suits strode by purposefully as though they had somewhere important to be, while still taking the time to smile flirtatiously at the pretty girls that caught their eye, whether their wives were with them or not. Children ran past me, laughing and grinning. They looked to be from a poor family. Their shirts and breeches were dirty and patched, yet childish innocence remained in their features.

Automated horses trotted through the streets, pulling their steel carriages. On their sides, I noted the Steam Steed Company logo. It was the simple silhouette of a stallion's head with steam billowing from its nose. I smirked with pride, seeing how many of them there were. Nearly every automated horse that rode by me bore the icon. My father, Christian Slade, owned the small company and ran the factory back in little Riverside. I had no idea we were doing so well in sales. Though we owned the company, our lives were relatively humble. We did not flaunt our wealth like many of the fat cats in the city.

A perfect example of that was Reginald Crane, the self-proclaimed king of Tin City and the owner of Crane Industries. Crane Industries was the biggest supplier of automations in the world. Their factory took up the entire South East corner of the city. I could see its tall exhaust pipes, towering over the skyscraping buildings around me. There was a bellowing hiss as a plume of misty steam was released from it. The steam rose and joined the clouds above.

"You see that tower there." Margaret whispered as we walked along the street. She pointed ahead of us at a gleaming tower, plated with golden copper and glistening glass windows that seemed to reach from the street to the tallest of its three spires. On its front was the unmistakable emblem for Crane Industries, a crane striding through misty water. "That's Crane Industries."

"It's enormous!" I gasped, leaning by head back as far as it would go to try to see the very top. I leaned back too far and I had to scramble to rescue my favorite flowered hat from the ground.

"You can't say they're modest, that's for sure." Margaret laughed. "Everything they do, they do big. Not only is their tower the tallest in the city, but their automations factory is the largest in the world."

"Imagine the views from the top floor. It must be really something."

"Oh it is." Margaret smiled. "It's downright scary to tell you the truth."

I gawked stupidly at her. "You've _been_ in the Crane Industries tower?"

Margaret's smile broadened to the point that I thought her lips might get stuck that way. "I thought you might find that interesting. I've been in there quite a few times. Peter and Reginald's father were childhood friends."

I grabbed her hands, grinning like I'd lost my mind. "Margaret, do you think you could get me a meeting with Reginald Crane? It's been my lifelong dream to design automations for them!" I pleaded.

"I suppose so, but your father owns Steam Steed. Don't you want to work for him?"

I sighed heavily at the very prospect of living out my days as a steam horse mechanic. "I've been repairing automated horses since I was seven, Aunt Margaret. I could build one from scratch in my sleep. I'm capable of so much more than that. I just want to have the chance to prove myself."

"I'll see what I can do." The old woman chuckled. She lightly brushed at my dusty hat, "but I think you may need a good dress to wear. Don't you?" She added.

"Do I look that bad?" I blushed. "I've got some better dresses in my suitcase." I brushed unhappily at my suddenly shabby burgundy skirt.

"You're beautiful, dear." She assured me as she took my hand and began to lead me towards a small dress shop. "I just thought that a meeting with Reginald was a good excuse to take you shopping."

I felt…overwhelmed…and oddly out of place inside the dress shop. I had never actually been in one before. Most of my dresses were made by Riverside's local seamstress or were hand-me downs from my mother or the older girls of the town. The store was filled to bursting with beautiful and ornate gowns, fabrics and shiny accessories. Women wandered around the store, combing the shelves and racks for something to catch their eye. A couple of them were even arguing over who had spotted a certain flower patterned dress first.

I fiddled with a dull, sand colored dress that was hanging on the nearest rack. I dared a glance at the price tag, which instantly made me cringe. "Aunt Margaret, you really needn't buy me a dress." I pleaded with her, horrified at the idea of her spending so much money on me. "I'm sure I have something that will do for a brief meeting with Mr. Crane."

"Reginald is a very fashionable man. He's always dressed to the nines and usually has a pretty lady on one arm, if not both. I want you to make an impression." The old woman smirked slyly.

"Yes, that's all well and good, but the interview is just for an engineer's job. I'm not trying to catch a husband. I don't want you to spend so much money on me, really."

Margaret took a beautiful silk gown of a vibrant indigo from the rack and held it up against me. "With a dress like this, you could get a job as a lead designer. I know Reginald, darling, with him a woman's beauty speaks more than their skills. It's sad but true. Reginald is the shallow sort. I'm hoping that you'll impress him in both respects."

"But…this dress is absurdly expensive."

She patted my cheek as she slung the gown over her arm and tottered towards the cashier. "Indulge an old woman, Caroline. I've always wanted a child, but sadly God didn't bless me with one. I fully intend on spoiling you while you're here." With that, we hurried home to get me ready and to send an urgent telegram to Mr. Crane. All those important errands my aunt had told me about seemed to have been forgotten.

"Why on earth did you cut your hair so short?" Margaret huffed, as she fiddled with a sparkly dragonfly shaped barrette and fought with the short tresses. Finally, by some sort of magic, she got the arrant strands to stay in place.

"My hair kept getting caught in the engines I was working on. Last time, it got caught on fire. I saved what I could." I muttered, twirling a lock of my shoulder length, chestnut colored hair. "Honestly, only the last two inches were burned beyond saving, but I got a little carried away with the scissors." Though it wasn't the current fashion, I liked my short hair. Before I cut it, I never realized how much of a bother long hair really was.

Margaret helped me into the indigo gown and laced me into the bodice, getting the laces as tight as possible to "show off my figure". I wasn't sure what figure she spoke of. I have the feminine curves of a twelve year old boy.

We heard a steady knock at the front door. "Hurry, that must be him." Margaret hurriedly pushed some fashionable boots into my hands and scurried out to answer the door.

I quickly put on the boots and ran after her. I slowed as I passed my uncle's old workroom door. I was surprised to see that it was slightly ajar. The many locks were left undone. Aunt Margaret must have gone down for something and forgot to lock it back. I bit at my lip, temptation rising up in me. I reached out my hand and lightly touched the brass knob.

"Caroline?" I heard Margaret call from the front sitting room over the serenade of ticking clocks.

Pushing back the urge to investigate the secret room, I ran the rest of the way down the hall. I secretly hoped that the door would still be unlocked after the meeting with Mr. Crane.

Margaret hadn't been exaggerating when she said that Reginald Crane was very fashionable, nor was she exaggerating about his popularity with the ladies. I slowed down to a purposeful walk as I came to the sitting room. I folded my hands at my waist and held my head up high, hoping that I would look older and more intelligent. Reginald sat in the loveseat across from my Aunt Margaret. He was dressed in a finely tailored suit. It was black with silver pinstripes and a silvery blue tie shone with a silky sheen in the light of the room.

A beautiful woman with licorice colored curls sat at his side, her body close to his. She held Mr. Crane's tall hat in her lap. She wore a flamboyant yellow dress, with a low neckline that showed far too much cleavage, for my taste.

Mr. Crane smirked at me over the rim of his tea cup. He had very angular features and thick, well groomed eyebrows. His face reminded me of a wolf's. His sharp eyes were the same silver color as his tie and pinstripes. He had thick black hair that he kept swept away from his forehead and a goatee which he kept trimmed. He was handsome in a clean cut sort of way. One look at his smooth, white hands told me he'd never done a day of hard work in his life. He had inherited his wealth and business, something I had little respect for, but that had little importance. I didn't have to like him to work for him.

"So this is your little niece, Mrs. Robins?" He inquired. He sat his tea down on the coffee table and his smirk broadened into a sly smile.

"Yes, Regi. This is Caroline Slade, Trinity and Christian's eldest child." Margaret replied with a sly smile all her own.

I was surprised by the intimate way my aunt spoke to Mr. Crane. She didn't simply call him by his Christian name. She called him by a childish sounding pet name. I was even more surprised that Mr. Crane didn't even seem upset by it.

"She looks like her father. Pity, Trinity was such a pretty girl." He commented as his eyes flittered over me. His silver eyes twinkled mischievously. "I was head over heels in love with your mother, once upon a time, you know."

"Were you?" I asked with a shuttering breath. "Funny, you don't look a day over twenty-five."

At that, Mr. Crane threw his head back in a laugh that shook his whole frame. His companion giggled at me, her mud colored eyes holding a "holier than thou" expression.

"It was puppy love." Margaret explained. "He was only seven the last time he saw her."

"Yes," began Mr. Crane, laughter still ringing in his voice. "Your mother stole my heart and ripped it to pieces. Unrequited love is such a cruel thing. How is your mother these days?"

I couldn't help but swallow hard at the question. "I…wouldn't know, sir. She left the family a few months ago. The last I heard, she was in the Golden City."

Mr. Crane's smirk fell into a placid line. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, Miss Slade. I didn't know." He gestured towards the open seat beside Margaret. "Please, sit. Your aunt tells me that you want to work for Crane Industries."

"Yes, sir, it's been a lifelong dream of mine to work for your company." I replied as I took my seat. My hands fidgeted nervously with my skirt.

Mr. Crane's smirk returned quickly. "That is surprising, given who your father is. Steam Steed is a rival company. Are you sure your father wouldn't be angry at you for working for the enemy."

"Perhaps, but Steam Steed only builds automated horses. Your company creates a far greater variety of automations and machinery. I feel that my talents could be put to a much greater use, if I were to work for you."

"Talents?" he asked. "What exactly can you offer my company? Or me?" He added playfully.

"I'm a very good engineer and mechanic, if I do say so myself." I said, trying not to stutter and appear calm even though I could feel a fierce blush beginning to form. "I've been working on my father's designs since I was a little girl. I've also come up with a few of my own, including an improved version of the automated horse that can handle a much greater speed than the current model."

"That's …nice, but I think that design is more your father's expertise. Out of respect for your father and his company, Crane Industries does not produce automated horses." He grinned at me, flashing a mouthful of gleaming, pearly white teeth. He had the most perfect smile I'd ever seen. One of the benefits of being filthy rich, I guessed. "I have to leave something for my competition to do." He added proudly.

"I…I do have many more ideas, Mr. Crane. I have designs for a self-pouring teapot and even sound activated lamps." My voice fell away as Mr. Crane stood up. He silenced me with a lifted hand. I suddenly felt like a servant girl being told to be quiet by my master. It was not a feeling I enjoyed. My face grew hot and my lips set into a deep scowl.

"I'm sorry, Miss Slade. Really, I am, but I don't often employ women in my factories, not as engineers, anyway. I feel that women should be given…gentler work. I'm sure I could find you placement as a secretary. I need dozens to keep all my business organized, but I'm afraid the position for my _personal_ secretary is taken." He petted the dark haired girl's hand in slow, intimate circles as he laughed huskily. "If you're interested in something like that then…"

"No." I answered in a short snippet, like a snapping dog. "I have no interest in desk work or anything _else_ you have your secretaries do for you." I eyed his companion shrewdly. She glared back with as much venom as a spitting cobra.

"Caroline!" I heard Margaret gasp.

I glared at Mr. Crane, daring to meet his eyes directly. "I am a very capable worker, Mr. Crane. I do not require gentler work, nor do I desire it."

"I want to help you, Miss Slade, but I feel that a factory, such as Crane Industries, is not the best place for a woman." He assured me; all the while that ever present smirk remained in the corners of his lips.

"I believe that if it were up to you, no woman would ever aspire to be anything more than a housewife." My hands balled into fists in my lap as I all but growled at him.

"I am not as chauvinistic as that. I merely feel that men are better suited for the kind of work we do." He said.

Outrage rolled through me. I wanted nothing more than to slap the smirk off of his face. "What part of that sentence does not sound chauvinistic?" I grumbled, crossing my arms over the bodice of the purple dress my aunt had spent so much money on just so I could impress this despicable man. "You seem to think that women are weak and too stupid to work in your factory."

Instead of making Mr. Crane's smirk disappear, as I hoped, my words only made it grow wider. "If that's how you translated my words, then I'm saying it wrong." He took his hat from his secretary and placed it slightly tilted on his head as he and the woman rose from their seats. "To be frank, Miss Slade, it isn't your sex that concerns me, but your age. You're only what, seventeen? I only hire the most experienced geniuses for my engineers. Many machines, similar to the designs you described have already been dreamed up by my team and they're in production as we speak."

"I-I have more, sir. I have a notebook filled with ideas. If I could only show them to you…" I jumped to my feet and started to turn away, to flee back to my room and retrieve my notebook, but Mr. Crane stopped me with a raised hand.

"That won't be necessary, Miss Slade. It's late and I have prior engagements that I'm already late for."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Truthfully, sir, is it my inexperience that you're holding against me or my pedigree?"

Mr. Crane peered at me, down the slope of his nose. His eyes were slightly narrowed, making him appear even more like a devilish wolf. "Perhaps it is a little of both." He said, his voice holding a slight menacing edge. He tilted his hat to me and he and his companion left without another word.

"That could have gone better." Aunt Margaret sighed. "I knew it was a longshot. The Cranes don't exactly enjoy your father's company and the fact that their business rivals now don't help matters."

"He must think that I want to spy on his company for my father." I said softly, feeling defeated and disappointed. I had long dreamed of working for the largest automations manufacturer in the world, dreaming up machines that had once seemed like science fiction. When Margaret had arranged the meeting, I thought that it would be my big chance to finally have that dream come true, but I should've known achieving it would be nearly impossible all because of who my father was.

"I'm sorry dear. I'll continue to pester him, Caroline. He'll give in to our demands soon enough, if only to shut us up." She laughed and I tried to smile, but I was far too miserable to conjure up anything but a frown.

"Thank you, Aunt Margaret, but I doubt that he'll change his mind. I think I'm going to turn in." I said softly, lifting up my skirts and walking quickly from the room.

The pounding of my heart had slowed to a pitiful murmur. I walked slowly down the hall, trailing a hand along the wall, missing the feel of wooden and brass clocks. The rest of the house was so saturated with clocks, that the hall that led to my bedroom seemed naked, bare and lonely in comparison, despite the pretty impressionistic paintings that hung upon its walls. I listened intently, searching through the silence for the comforting sound of machinery and moving clockwork. I hated it, the quiet. I had grown up in my father's house, right next door to the Steam Steed factory. The factory was noisy and you could always hear the rumbling hiss of steam or the clank of metal against metal, no matter where you were in the house. Those sounds were my lullaby when I was a baby and now they were a needed comfort. Perhaps that is why I loved my uncle's clock collection so much.

I stalled when I reached the work room door. It was still unlocked and cracked slightly open. I bit my lip as I wrapped my hand around the doorknob. _I should close the door_. I thought. _Margaret didn't want me to go down there. She'll be angry if I disobey her. _Unfortunately, my curiosity was getting the better of me. _But what if there's some great contraption I could take apart and study or a something that needs fixing? Margaret did say that it was filled with broken clocks and unfinished projects. I'm sure Uncle Peter would like that I finished the work he left behind. _Taking a fearful look around, I made sure that Margaret was nowhere in sight before I opened the forbidden door, with its many brass locks and descended into the pitch black realm below in search of the secrets it held, never dreaming of just how big those secrets might be.


End file.
